


Our Own Dialect

by PennamePersona



Series: Clinic AU [7]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Clinic AU, Dancing, F/M, Fluff, way loosely though it can definitely be read as a standalone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 15:21:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3815359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PennamePersona/pseuds/PennamePersona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave returns to the apartment he shares with Jade and considers various aspects of it. Jade returns home, and he then thinks on their relationship, on how the two of them fit together so wonderfully. Today might not have been the best day for Dave, in some respects, but he knows of no better way to end it than like this, with Jade. </p><p> </p><p>Part of the Clinic AU, but can be read separately.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Our Own Dialect

**Author's Note:**

> Basically, this is fluff and introspection. I consider it to be part of the Clinic AU, but honestly, it can really really easily be read as a standalone. It's only part of the Clinic AU in that this is a depiction of part of a day in the life of Dave & Jade in that verse, it requires no previous knowledge of the verse. 
> 
> This is somewhat self-indulgent of me. This verse has branched out in my mind, so even though it was originally just a Johnkat one-shot, it has become much more.  
> At least in my mind. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy the Davejade!

"Honey, I'm home!" You call into the apartment, not surprised when you hear no response. Jade mentioned that she'd be working later tonight. The line was more about the principle of the thing than for any truly functional reason.

But hey, now the fish know that you're home, and that counts for something. Especially considering one of them is actually named Honey.

"Yeah, that's right, Honey. Daddy's home. And so is Bubbles. And Rosie. And Rainbow Brite. And Fido. And Marie Curie. And Physics. Fuck, we have a lot of fish." You half-consciously speak to yourself as you sprinkle fish food into the tank. "Damn, Rosie, you're getting fat. You're healthy as a horse and big as one, too. I know you aren't really aware of much, so you don't comprehend why it's so great that you're the fattest fish I own, but I appreciate it all the same. No, hold still, let me take the picture. Rose has to see how huge you are. She has to know that her namesake is a fucking blimp. There we go, perfect."

You tap some flakes into the smaller tank as well, since you're still about 57% sure that Dirkie the Siamese fighting fish could get out of the tank and kick your ass, then devour you, if he was hungry enough. Jade says you're being ridiculous, but you do not trust gifts from your relatives, even the relatives you actually like. And considering that John gifts one or both of you with a box rigged to explode in one way or another (pie, shaving cream, glitter, firecrackers, some kind of slime that you're still vaguely uncomfortable thinking about for too long) annually, you would think that she'd understand. But no, she's sure that Dirk was just being nice, since he knew that you had a shit ton of fish and obviously he wanted to express some familial affection.

You call bullshit. You only have the shit ton of fish because Rose gave you and Jade a goldfish as a house(apartment)warming present, and that was only because if she gave you a plant, it'd lose the ironic, passive-aggressive, mother-in-law-who's-going-to-guilt-you-about-the-damn-thing-every-single-time-she-visits appeal, since Jade honestly loves plants and would be happy with any gift of greenery, but she prefers to grow her own, which are amazing, and somehow it'd just feel wrong to give her some basic ass fern.

You got Rose pretty easily on the fish thing, though. Bought a classy tank, decorated it all nice, got Rosie the goldfish some friends, and didn't kill a single one of them. You check that tank daily, dammit, clean it yourself and all that responsible shit. You do the same for Dirkie's tank, though at first, Jade took care of that one, since you were convinced that somehow or another, it'd be revealed that Dirk had something lying in wait for you, taught the damn fish to swordfight, you don't know, but if Jade was touching it, it'd calm down. Your family wouldn't hurt Jade, that much you can be sure of.

You walk into the bedroom, take off your suit jacket, hang it over a chair. There's Bec, shedding all over the bed, real surprise there. He doesn't even twitch in response to any of your movements, which is admittedly better than his original reaction to you. If Jade was here, though, he'd be all up in her business before she had a chance to set anything down. Damn dog loves the fuck out of her, which is one of the few things you can relate to him on.

You take a moment to appraise your bookshelf of dead things, the centerpiece a gift from Roxy. It's some kind of mutated creature, and though you don't really want to know its backstory, you'll readily admit that it looks cool as fuck. You're pretty sure that it's probably a bird? She's got some weirdass mutant cat things at her place, but she's family, so she probably latched onto your bird thing and got you a nice. Crow? Raven? Parakeet? Fuck, you don't even know.

You walk back into the kitchen, take the frilly apron off its hook, tie it around yourself. The thing is only half-ironic, since you really don't like getting any kind of mess on your shirts, whether they're the nice, pressed, clean, suit ones or t-shirts that you've had since dinosaurs roamed the earth and you still lived with your biological father. It's not that you can't get stains off, because you can, you totally can, you're the fucking stainmaster, laundry is your bitch. It's just that you don't want to have to do it. You like things to stay clean. Which is why you leave the plant shit to Jade. You're all for her greenery stuff, you aren't complaining about her growing her own perfect tomatoes, but the dirt, no, you are not getting the dirt on you unless she asks for your help with those fucking puppy dog eyes (she usually doesn't ask for help unless she's going to be in the greenhouse all day and wants your company, and then you can't really complain because on a choice between Jade and no Jade you'll pick Jade every single time).

There's two slices of ham frying gently when you hear the door open, followed by: "Hi Bec! How are you? Yeah, I'm happy to see you, too, yeah! Alright boy, move over, I've gotta get in, yes, thank you, aaaaaaaaaand door closed! Okay. Dave?"

"In here, babe," You call from the kitchen, buttering slices of bread. "Working my ass off making food, and don't worry, I got all my other chores done before gossiping with the other housewives."

"Dave, you're still wearing most of your suit." She says, closer to you now, passing into the kitchen, and you know she's got her fond little smile on. 

"Maybe it makes me feel pretty, like a real woman." You say, taking the ham from the frying pan and laying it onto the bread. "Hope you're up for ham sandwiches, because if you aren't, devil dog and I are gonna fight for your share."

"Sounds tasty!" She calls from the bedroom. "Thank you, Dave!"

"No problem. Just doing my wifely duties," You say, setting the plates down and untying your apron. Jade comes back out of the bedroom, kisses your cheek before sitting down.

"How was the meeting today?" She asks when you sit down across from her.

"Most of them were morons," You say. "I mean it, Jade, they made my comics look like a grammatical masterpiece, which is actually sort of offensive. I doubt I'll have to go back in for a while, everything should go smooth like a well-greased waterslide."

"That's good," She says. "But isn't a waterslide already pretty smooth because of the water?"

"Jade. Please." You say, straight-faced and as serious as you were in your meeting today. "Allow me my strange and illogical comparisons. They are all I have."

She smiles and stands up, picking up both of your now empty plates and putting them into the sink. She drapes herself over you, then, gently knocking your heads together.

"You've got me!" She says, squeezing you close for a second. You smile the way you only do with her, a small smile that manages to convey your pleasure at her company in a way that you don't think your words ever quite could. She's said she likes that smile.

"Yeah, I've got you." You agree, turning around and catching her by the waist. You pull her in for a kiss, worrying your thumbs over her hips. 

She pulls away gently, leaving lingering pecks on your lips as she takes your hands and pulls you up. You follow her into the living room, where she releases you to turn on some music. You smile when you hear the opening of a mix the two of you did together, one of the slower, sweeter pieces. This one is old, from years ago, before you lived together, before you fit like you do now, back when the only way you knew how to express your mind's image of Jade was with created, changed sound.

She catches your hands again, and you think about the first time the two of you listened to this song together, how raw and open and vulnerable you felt. When you were making it, you had put your all into it, had let the part of you marked "Jade" take over in some way, and listening to it afterwards, you'd realized just how much it said. 

As the two of you sway together, both of you barefoot, you in a dress shirt and suit pants, shitty tie based off your own comic creations still loose around your neck, Jade in a plain t-shirt, sturdy yet respectable pants, hair still pulled back in a ponytail, you remember how scared you were. You remember the realization hitting you that you'd lain your soul bare for Jade Harley to see and being terrified of what she'd think. You'd created this song together years ago, long enough that now, you think you were only half-aware of your feelings for Jade and how deeply they went. This song still reminds you of that, even all this time later, despite all the changes and adjustments and life since then.

Jade leans back to pull off your glasses, then sets them on the coffee table. You blink for a moment, allow your eyes to adjust. The apartment is always kept somewhat dim because of your light sensitivity, almost entirely lit by natural light during the day, muted lamplight accounting for most of the rest of it. There's a bigger adjustment with those glasses, in some ways, since they're perscription and tinted, improving your vision somewhat, while still blocking out some light and making you look at least mildly intimidating. Still, in other ways, you think you'll prefer the shades John gave you until the day you die.

You reach to gently tug the ponytail holder out of Jade's hair, tossing it lightly down next to your glasses. You comb your fingers through her hair, smile at her while she smiles at you. You always feel at least a little vulnerable and strange without glasses of some kind, and you prefer your shades to any others. They block you out from the rest of the world, let your eyes express what they like without anyone seeing. You don't mind when Jade sees your eyes, most of the time. She knows all of you, has held all of you in her hands, seen all of you even in the stark light of day, and here she is now, the person you're most comfortable with in the whole of the world.

"I love you," You say, quietly, right along with the message of the music. Her eyes soften with emotion, mirroring your own, you imagine.

"I love you, too." She says, holding your hands again, starting to dance to the music. You move with her, shuffle and sway, close enough to kiss her softly.

You spin her gently, hand above her head, white dog shedding on the sofa, fish tanks bubbling quietly, music and emotion both resonating within you. Her eyes are green and full of everything about her, your eyes are a red that's never quite the same, never quite right, and sometimes you've felt like your eyes express you more accurately than anything else ever could.

Right now, though, it isn't your eyes or your mouth that are doing the talking; it's your hands and feet, it's the music that you made long enough ago that it isn't quite you who made it. You're speaking a language you aren't sure how to explain, and this dialect is unique to you and Jade Harley. This may be an abstract language, vague in explanation, but it's one of the most meaningful ways you know to express yourself, to communicate with the people you care about. And right now, speaking this dialect with the person you love in your arms, while you're in hers, you know exactly what she's saying, and you know that she hears you, as well.

You spin her gently, hand above her head, white dog shedding on the sofa, fish tanks bubbling quietly, music and emotion both resonating within you, enveloped in hearing and speaking, "I love you."

**Author's Note:**

> Again, I hope you all enjoyed the fic! I like Davejade a lot.
> 
> As always, comments are very much appreciated, and feel free to contact me with a comment, below, or at my tumblr: pennamepersona.tumblr.com
> 
> Have a nice day!
> 
> [Buy me a coffee!](https://ko-fi.com/A375K8Q)


End file.
